Midnight Snack
by WrittenSword
Summary: Andy makes a nightly trip to the kitchen. Things happen... This is femslash!  Miranda/Andrea


**Midnight Snack**  
><em>by writtensword<em>

Staring at the darkened bedroom ceiling, mind wide awake, all senses attuned to even the slightest change in the silence and the shadows surrounding her, Andy Sachs clutched at her stomach in frustration.

Why was it, that in the time since she had started working at Runway - a fashion magazine that housed some of the skinniest staff members she had ever seen, she had managed to overcome most of her cravings, no longer experiencing urges to snack on sweet or fatty foods during the day, and only eating sensible portions with her main meals; yet this one moment of weakness, this trap, set by restless nights and haunting thoughts, still held inexplicable power over her.

Her right thumb was suffering the consequences of the internal battle, being chewed and suckled on relentlessly as she tried to talk herself out of getting up and sneaking to the kitchen. Andy knew it was a matter of discipline and willpower. She did _not _need food right now! She wasn't hungry at all, and those little jars of organic blueberry yogurt she had spied in the fridge earlier, would definitely still be there for a cozy Saturday breakfast tomorrow morning.

She groaned. But they would taste so very delicious _right now_!

Sleep completely wiped off the agenda by her racing mind and overly tense body, she rammed her heels into the mattress, kicking the sheets off in the process.

Andy knew, that if only her brain weren't so filled with impossible, unsettling thoughts, she wouldn't find herself repelling all of Morpheus' attempts to lure here into slumber to begin with. Avoiding what was happening in her mind, and - she couldn't escape that much truth - also in her heart, had been keeping her awake an increasing amount of nights in the past couple of weeks.

It didn't help that, right now, she was in rather close proximity to the cause of her restlessness.

_Miranda._

The name alone made the arm around her middle tighten, and she winced from the pain of her teeth digging into her thumb. Miranda Priestly, the editor-in-chief of Runway, Fashion Queen extraordinaire, and to whom Andy was a rather competent junior assistant, and lately, a friend, was sleeping just down the hall.

About three months ago, in early March, when the hustle and bustle of the biannual Fashion Week circus had calmed down, Miranda had begun to go over the Book - which was a mock-up version of an in-production Runway issue - with Andy by her side. Shocked at first, the assistant had sat stiffly on the sofa next to the editor's arm chair, nodding eagerly each time Miranda explained a decision for change or elimination. After a few weeks, however, when it had become clear that Miranda truly wished to share some of her knowledge, Andy had embraced the highly privileged opportunity to learn from the genius herself and had even dared to speak up and ask a few questions.

It had become a habit, instead of placing the mock-up on the hallway table - as had been strictly drilled into her when she had started the job - to now simply walk into the downstairs sitting room, where Miranda would be waiting. After a month of increasing dialogue, Miranda had started to pour the two of them a glass of wine or two while they discussed the importance of font faces and ad placement.

Yet another two weeks into their undefined arrangement, their sessions had relocated to the upstairs living room, which was a lot more cozy and personal, giving Andy the opportunity to glimpse framed candid photos of Miranda and her twin daughters, as well as other, random traces of the usually well-shielded family life of her boss.

Then they had begun to sit together even after the Book was closed and finished for the night. Conversations between them, now entirely equally balanced in the privacy of the town house, had taken them through art history, theatre, and literature - a topic Andy was particularly fond of, because it seemed that despite their age difference, their tastes were very similar.

At work, nothing obvious had changed. Somehow it had become an unspoken rule between them that Andy didn't confide in anyone else about the Book lessons, and the fact that Miranda had suddenly appeared to be less ruthless to her second assistant, whereas the level of her trademark venom had increased when dealing with other staff members, could very easily have been attributed to the fact that Andy simply was very good at her job.

Getting to know Miranda privately had, of course, helped tremendously with Andy's willingness to surpass herself daily and try to make the editor's work-life as easy as possible. A less stressed Miranda always meant longer talks in the evenings. And so much longer they became.

The first time Miranda had offered Andy one of the guestrooms had been twenty-five days ago. After a particularly pleasant and lengthy discussion about Russian composers and their global influence on ballet, the older woman, who usually walked the assistant to the door and made sure she got safely into the cab, had stopped at the top of the stairs and had turned to Andy, her lips pursed in contemplation, and when she had invited her to stay her voice had sounded so soft and almost shy.

Refusing the offer had been difficult for Andy, since she had grown to enjoy their private time together, and prolonging it into a brand new day had sounded absolutely lovely. But the sudden confrontation with such a possibility had frightened her. Her declining had visibly upset Miranda - even if you had to really know the woman in order to notice the subtle changes in her features - and so the second time the editor had offered, it had been impossible to say no. From then on, Andy would spend the night in one of the guestrooms in Miranda's home nearly every other day.

Staying over at a friend's house was far from unusual, even if that friend was a co-worker. What made all of this so bizarre, was the fact that Miranda Priestly was not simply a co-worker, she was Andy's boss, as well as the number one voice when it came to the entire world of fashion. She was as powerful as she was merciless; hated, feared and admired alike, and a public figure who was known for her failure to keep husbands and her wide range of faux friends.

The idea, that this woman, whom they called 'Snow Queen', or 'Dragon Lady', would find herself connecting with her young assistant, a girl in her mid-twenties, who might have possessed some writing talent and experience as an editor-in-chief at the paper of an Ivy League school, but was otherwise rather ordinary, that very idea was just _ludicrous_.

And yet, here Andy was; rolling about restlessly in the messy silk sheets, two doors down from the object of her ever more frequent musings.

She loved spending time with Miranda. It had become the prime event she still looked forward to, every single day. It had become the very _reason _she got up in the mornings; the sole motivation to keep doing her best at work, where her colleagues had shown an increasingly bitter attitude toward her. Never before had Andy been so fascinated with another person, or this enthralled by what went on in someone else's head.

Of course she had admired Miranda before, when they had simply been the boss and her assistant. But the moment the older woman had allowed Andy into her private life, everything regarding Miranda's often barely glimpsed humanity had become vibrant, alive, and real.

Her increasing attachment to Miranda was the instigator of Andy's current, and recent insomnia. For these were not merely feelings of friendship that were plaguing her, but somewhere along the lines, spending time with Miranda had caused butterflies to start nesting in her belly. They had quickly grown in numbers, and their wild fluttering was especially unnerving toward the end of the nightly talks, when Miranda looked sleepy, less guarded, and - Andy was still careful with such words, even to herself - more _beautiful_.

She did not really question Miranda's motives regarding the change in their relationship. She understood that the woman she had come to care for so much wasn't someone who opened up to just anyone. To say that Miranda was very private, was an understatement, and so Andy firmly believed that the editor truly cared for her in return. It was a miracle, but it was real, which made it even harder for Andy to come to terms with the depth of her feelings.

Lately, she found herself wondering what it would feel like to hug the other woman. As their conversations had progressed, so had their revelations of private history, and some things in Miranda's past had caused Andy's fingers to twitch from the urge to draw Miranda into a tight embrace. The thought of full-on, physical touch, which was a perfectly normal occurrence in a friendship, had made Andy's heart race, and her palms had felt clammy; her legs weak. The butterflies in her belly had been celebrating.

Not to mention how sometimes Miranda would just look at her; not with the judgemental glare of a fashion magazine editor, the berating fierceness of a boss, or the condescending appraisal of someone two decades her senior, but simply with a gaze that contained wonder; a marvel at Andy herself. All the younger woman could do in those moments, was to lower her eyes and smile, shyly, and feel extremely foolish. It only fed her infatuation.

"Oh, god...," she groaned, whispering up into the night, her stomach churning.

No wonder that her mind kept drifting off toward food with increasing regularity. It was a means of defense, a way to ignore - unsuccessfully at that - how she was slowly, but surely falling in _love_.

As if running from that four-letter word, her feet abruptly collided with the lush carpet and she sat up rigidly on the edge of the bed. Maybe a late-night indulgence of blueberry yogurt wasn't such a bad idea after all. Her mind knew how to protect her heart, and rather than lie there, and be exposed to the mocking judgement of a sleepless night, she decided to follow her stomach.

It was almost ironic that only a few steps toward the stairs, Andy contemplated on the ease with which she found her way through Miranda's house without even turning on the light. It caused a sad smile to crawl onto her lips, and she shook her head, while carefully descending, hand sliding along the banister.

The town house was warm enough to let her walk around in the underwear and lace tank top she had worn to bed, and other than the typical creaking and ticking that always accompanied nineteenth-century buildings, it was utterly quiet. A pair of lanterns in Miranda's backyard cast long shadows over the marble counter when Andy padded across the smooth tiles into the kitchen. She trailed her fingers along the edge of the island until she arrived in front of the fridge. After a brief moment of hesitation, which included extensive lip-biting, and shuffling her weight from one foot to the other, she reached for the handle and pulled at the door.

As was the problem with night-time visits to refrigerators, the bright light momentarily blinded Andy, and she squinted into the general direction of the fully stocked shelves. The previous night's half-finished bottle of champagne greeted her first, and her mind had a hard time fighting the fresh memories of Miranda in that bronze sweater; one shoulder fully exposed and torturing Andy all evening with the creamy, revealed skin.

She allowed her fingers to briefly travel over the bottle neck, the glass cool against her skin. Her own neck, however, was bathed in heat; a flush traveling up her spine and spreading over her scalp at the realisation that Miranda had not been wearing a bra.

"Gah!"

Her palms shot to cover her face. Her cheeks burned, and she rubbed at her skin with almost painfully harsh pressure in an attempt to ward off more inappropriate thoughts about her boss.

"Andrea."

Startled, Andy spun around and pulled down her arms so abruptly that her left elbow collided with the refrigerator door, causing her to release a pathetic, little yelp.

"Are you alright?"

Miranda stepped from the shadows, her bare feet padding over the kitchen tiles; her hips, gently hugged by the thigh-length, magnolia silk camisole, swayed as she approached the younger woman.

"I... yes... uhm," Andy stammered, her elbow throbbing from pain; her heart racing. "I-I'm sorry... I felt... hungry... and I..." she pointed a shaky finger at the fridge behind her.

"Andrea," Miranda said softly, stopping less than two feet away, "I told you to make yourself feel at home, and that you're free to take anything you like from the kitchen."

Andy slowly nodded, all of her combined focus and strength attempting to keep her gaze from dropping to Miranda's very low decollete. Miranda's eyes, darkened by the night, bore into her, and it was one of those looks that filled Andy's chest with warmth, and made her heart burn. She hoped that Miranda would attribute the severe outbreak of goose bumps over her arms, left bare by her spaghetti-strap tank top, to the proximity of the opened fridge, rather than the way she made Andy feel inside.

"I take it you couldn't sleep either," Miranda almost whispered, and when she cocked her head to the side, waiting for a reply, she bit her bottom lip and studied Andy so intently that the younger woman had to look away, or else she would have whimpered from the sheer intensity of what she was feeling.

"Uhm... yeah," she mumbled, turning back toward the fridge, eyes flying over the shelves, but seeing nothing.

When she felt Miranda move behind her and place a warm palm on her shoulder, Andy stopped breathing. Miranda's thumb brushed against Andy's neck as she leaned forward and reached past her to grab two small jars from the door, handing one to the utterly flustered younger woman.

"You like the blueberry, right?" She was so close that her soft breath ghosted over Andy's skin.

Andy gripped at the offered yogurt and exhaled a shaky "uhum".

"Come, sit with me," Miranda whispered, finally releasing her hand from Andy's shoulder, leaving a spot that felt sunburned; scorched and frozen at the same time. She retrieved two spoons from a drawer and moved over to the kitchen island, where she elegantly slid onto one of the bar stools. Andy swallowed hard when Miranda crossed her legs, camisole riding up, and her bare thighs glowing in the bright refrigerator light like beacons; calling out to Andy, mocking her.

At least it gave her enough willpower to close the door, leaving the two of them in the semi-dark. She took a deep breath and made her way to the stool beside Miranda. The light from the backyard was enough for them to peel off the aluminum lids, and they began spooning their yogurt in a companionable silence.

Her gaze occasionally escaping to Miranda's fingers, to her mouth, and to how her lips closed around the spoon, Andy barely tasted the blueberries. Through her nerves, she faintly enjoyed the familiarity between them, the comfortable feeling of simply sitting together like this, and she was struck at how lucky she was that Miranda, a woman so shielded by her icy image, would allow Andy to see her like this.

It caused Andy to feel even more guilty about the path her thoughts were taking when Miranda raised a hand to absently rub the back of her neck, slightly arching her throat and closing her eyes as she massaged a spot near her shoulder. Andy wanted to cry. Miranda looked so incredibly beautiful, with her hair slightly mussed and glowing gently in the diffuse light.

Just then her eyes opened, immediately finding Andy's. A tiny smile crept over her lips, and the fingers that had just touched her own skin reached up and gently brushed a few strands of hair away from Andy's face. Her fingertips fluttered against Andy's temple, and the younger woman shivered.

"Will you confide in me with why you couldn't sleep?" Miranda breathed, her eyes drifting to Andy's lips.

"Uhm..."

How could she tell Miranda? How could Andy possibly reveal her sudden desire to reach out and grasp Miranda's fingers, how she longed to hold her hand; how her life would finally be complete, if only she could bury her face in the crook of Miranda's neck and feel her warm skin against her lips? How could she, when such honesty would disrupt, if not forever terminate the bond they had built over the past three months?

Sadness pulled at the corners of her mouth and Andy had to look away, her gaze seeking refuge at the half-finished jar of blueberry yogurt on the counter before her.

"Andrea," came the softest whisper. "You know you can trust me."

It was a true statement, not an accusation, but it drove tears into Andy's eyes nonetheless.

"Hey..."

And then fingers curled under her chin and gently forced her head back around.

"Andrea. What is it?"

The first tear rolled heavily over Andy's cheek, and although everything in her body told her to run, to somehow escape before Miranda would find out the truth and push her away, she simply could not move. Miranda's hand shifted, and her palm felt so warm and soothing as it cupped Andy's cheek. Her thumb began caressing Andy's cheekbone, and the younger woman's shaky attempt at taking a breath turned into half a sob.

"Darling," the term of endearment forced Andy's eyes shut and more tears spilled forth from between her lids.

"Please, talk to me."

Miranda rose from the seat and turned the younger woman's bar stool toward her, while her other hand reached up to fully cradle Andy's face. She stood so close that Andy felt herself drown in the wonderful smell of her fragrant shampoo, the moisturiser, and that special, familiar scent of just Miranda. Another sob ripped from her throat, and suddenly Miranda closed the remaining space between them and drew Andy into her arms.

Andy's knees were in the way, but the shock of the long-desired embrace was strong enough to break through her resolve, and she curled her arms around Miranda's waist and clung to her for dear life. Miranda's fingers found their way to Andy's hair, tenderly combing through her long tresses, and the gesture was so uncharacteristic and beautiful that Andy slowly felt herself calm down.

"Andrea, please tell me why you're so distraught," she whispered, her voice holding traces of her own upset.

"You will hate me..." Andy mumbled against Miranda's warm throat, arms tightening around Miranda's waist.

"I doubt that very much, Andrea." Miranda whispered into Andy's hair. "I believe that _hating_ you would prove rather... _difficult_."

Her hands rubbed soothingly over Andy's back, and the younger woman inhaled deeply, basking in the perfection of how their bodies melted into one.

_"I like you," _she whispered as quietly as she could, and Miranda raised her head and looked down at her, puzzled.

"Pardon? You need to speak up, Darling. I can't understand you."

It was so much more difficult to say, now that Andy could no longer hide in the crook of Miranda's neck, which had felt so wonderful and safe. Her grip around Miranda slackened and she averted her gaze, staring into the dark corners of the room, wishing she could curl up there.

"I... like you."

There. It was out. Now it hung in the air between them, ready to be used against her; Miranda, no doubt, repulsed to the point where in her mind she was cooking up all kinds of schemes to fire and blackball Andy into all eternity.

"I see," came the careful reply, and surprised at those warm palms still sliding so sweetly over her back, Andy had to look back up and into Miranda's strangely warm eyes.

"But why is that upsetting?"

"Miranda, I don't think you understand..." Andy tried again; the fact, that Miranda didn't seem to quite grasp what she was saying, luring out some of her usual confidence.

"I _like _you. As in, I want to hold your hand, and go on romantic walks with you. Hold you... kiss you...," she faltered as the older woman's face visibly shifted into an image of utter shock.

The softest "oh!" left Miranda's lips, and after the blissful months of friendship, Andy couldn't bear to watch the fashion queen's trademark disappointment, and likely disgust, taint those beautiful eyes again, so she shifted and sheepishly extracted her arms from around Miranda's waist. She was ready to jump to her feet and flee from the room, when Miranda suddenly tightened her hold around her.

"Andrea, don't you dare run!"

It was hissed so firmly and uncharacteristically loud, the words reflecting harshly off the kitchen walls, that Andy froze and looked abruptly back at Miranda.

"Don't you dare..."

This time it was barely a whisper, and Miranda suddenly appeared so open and vulnerable that Andy's confusion slowly gave way to a feeling of utter tenderness.

The arms around her loosened ever so slowly, and then Miranda's hands stroked over Andy's shoulders, down her arms, until she arrived at her wrists and very gently entwined their fingers.

"I think... it may be too late for a stroll in the park..." she said, eyes searching Andy's, "but I rather liked the rest of your suggestions."

Andy's heart, which only seconds ago had been about to burst into a thousand, little pieces, slowly filled will the warmest, fuzziest glow.

"Really?"

Miranda leaned forward until her lips were just a few inches away from Andy's mouth.

"Yes."

And suddenly reality caught up with Andy, hitting her across the face like a tumbling brick wall.

Miranda liked her, too. In _that _way.

The longing, which had quietly grown in her chest over the past few weeks, roared up and transformed any remaining doubt Andy might have had into full-blown determination.

She reached up, curled her fingers into the short hair at the base of Miranda's neck, and pulled the older woman firmly against her lips. They both gasped at the contact, but quickly their mouths began to move. Miranda's fingers found their way back into Andy's tresses and they held each other close.

Lips slid together, mouths parted, and then tongues probed, gently at first; sensually gliding over one another in a meeting that set off fireworks behind Andy's eyelids. Miranda was so deliciously soft and full of warmth, and she tasted of vanilla yogurt and strawberries. The hands in Andy's hair stroked down her neck, over her shoulder blades and came to rest on her hips, grabbing tightly.

Her knees still obstructing full-on contact, Andy didn't hesitate to open her legs, encouraged by the little whimpers Miranda made when Andy's tongue curled under her own. Leaving one hand to thread through Miranda's silver strands, Andy moved her other palm and pressed it flat against Miranda's lower back, guiding their hips together.

The intimate contact caused their kiss to break in a joint gasp, and Andy's nervous system jolted awake as the smooth satin of Miranda's legs glided against her inner thighs, making her very conscious about the fact that both of them were merely wearing flimsy underwear. Their gazes locked, and Miranda's eyes were blazing; like a beast, woken and lured by a faint trickle of blood, and now, after having gotten a rather pleasurable taste, it was ready for a feast.

This time, it was Miranda who grabbed Andy by the back of her neck and tugged firmly to reconnect their lips. She pressed closer and rolled her hips into Andy, who moaned loudly at the full contact of the hot body against her centre. Miranda took that opportunity to slide her tongue back into Andy's mouth, her assault firm, but sweet; the slick muscle licking over her teeth, before seeking out its twin for another sensual dance.

Andy couldn't think. She was no longer aware of the world as such; her universe consisting only of that demanding tongue massaging her own, the soft hips that ground against her, and the delicious feeling of the warm body in her grip.

She tightened her arms, pulling Miranda against herself so firmly it almost hurt. The heightened contact, however, assured her that this was real, and not an insomnia-induced hallucination. She was completely surrounded by Miranda's scent, her flavour, her heat; it was almost too much, too fast.

Still, she raised her knees, brought her calves together and crossed her ankles around the editor, effectively locking Miranda in place. She felt like she was drowning, the sudden switch from the agony and fear of losing Miranda's friendship, to this highly arousing state, was completely overwhelming. She clung to the woman almost desperately, and the mouth against her own began to slow down, until eventually Miranda's lips stilled altogether.

Breaths were sucked greedily through their noses, their chests heaving in unison, while Miranda held her lips loosely pressed to Andy's, her fingers drawing gentle patterns along the younger woman's flushed neck, soothing and calming them both.

"Darling," Miranda whispered, "are you alright?"

Andy shivered and her fingers dug into the thin fabric of Miranda's camisole, causing the arms around her to tighten even more.

"Yes... I will be."

Miranda gently rubbed their noses together and delivered a series of brief, tender kisses.

"I just..." Andy continued, "I could have never imagined, that... that..."

Miranda brought their foreheads together.

"That I _like_ you, the way that you _like _me?"

Andy nodded, slightly embarrassed by her earlier choice of words, by sounding almost like a preteen.

"Well," Miranda continued, "it seems that we have both been in the same predicament, then."

She smiled against Andy's mouth, the unexpected movement against her lips causing Andy to smirk in return.

"I feel..." Miranda took a moment to mull over the right words. "I feel a deeply-rooted affection for you, Andrea."

The sweet words melted over Andy's heart.

"I would not have dared to... _dream_," she explained further, "that my feelings could ever possibly be returned. You're so young and beautiful..." Andy trembled at the compliment, her chest swelling. "And I'm a grumpy old dragon who chases everyone away." Miranda sniffed at herself. "So, I had... resigned myself... to simply be your friend."

"Miranda..." Andy pushed her face into the elegant curve between Miranda's throat and shoulder, and she tightened her arms and legs. "_You're_, the beautiful one." Her lips brushed gently over a collar bone, and Miranda shivered under the caress.

They simply hugged, basking in the knowledge that their affections were reciprocated. After a few moments of standing in a swaying embrace, filled with soft caresses, Miranda, shivered again, and whispered, "It's getting a bit cold down here..."

Andy instinctively rubbed her palms over Miranda's back, which made the older woman laugh.

"Darling, what I meant was 'let's go upstairs'," she smirked, and then her hands slipped down Andy's sides, and along her inner thighs, the soft pressure prying Andy's legs apart and allowing Miranda to step away.

"Come," she reached for Andy's hand, fingers firmly locking together, and tugged her down from the bar stool and out of the kitchen.

They ascended the stairs in silence, taking each step together and exchanging laden looks that reassured Andy she would not return to a lonely bed. And indeed, in the third floor hallway, Miranda pulled her past Andy's assigned quarters, past the empty rooms of the girls - who were conveniently spending the weekend at their father's - and toward Miranda's own bedroom. When they stopped in the doorway, she gazed at Andy almost timidly.

"I...uhm... we don't need to..." Miranda looked a bit lost, and Andy hugged her close and leaned over to sweetly kiss her cheek.

"I just can't bear the idea of being apart from you..." Miranda continued in a whisper, "now that I know how you want to _hold me_ and _kiss me_..." she smiled shyly as she repeated Andy's earlier words.

"I want to stay with you," Andy replied, tracing Miranda's signature, albeit now slightly messy, forelock, before trailing her fingers over her cheek. "I'd be happy just to hold you."

Miranda's sweet smile encouraged Andy to open up, and she stepped away and lowered her chin, feeling a bit shy as she confessed, "lately, all I could think about was to have you in my arms. A few times I've come very close to just reach out and hug you."

"Why didn't you?" Miranda asked, slowly stepping around the door and into the room that was warmly illuminated by the two bedside table lamps.

"I was terrified of your reaction." Looking up, Andy grimaced at the sudden sadness in Miranda's face and quickly added, "I didn't want to risk ruining... what we had built. It was already so much more than I could have ever hoped."

Miranda reached for her hand, relinking their fingers, and tugged.

"Come, we might as well get comfortable while you compensate me for those lost hugs."

Her fingers were so warm; her relieved smile so inviting, that Andy felt not a trace of anxiety or doubt when Miranda pulled her toward the bed. The expensive sheets whispered over her skin as they slipped under them together. Once settled in the centre of the mattress, Miranda opened her arms and raised her brows, waiting, and Andy giggled as she rolled forward and into the embrace, before snuggling against the older woman's chest.

"Miranda?"

"Hmmm?"

"If I wanted to do more than just hold you... or kiss you," she squeezed Miranda tightly, "would that be alright?"

Miranda's arms pulled her closer.

"Darling, I'd be delighted to have you do anything to me that you're comfortable with."

Then they were kissing again, tenderly drawing out each stroke of their tongues, pausing to nibble at a lip, to pull it between their teeth and suck. Their noses brushed together and their hands found their warm backs under the covers, rubbing in circles, fingers caressing the napes of their necks, slipping into their hair.

Andy felt so safe, buried under the Egyptian cotton sheets like in a cocoon; Miranda's arms holding her close, pressing them together so their breasts touched through the fabric of their tops. She moaned around the tongue that probed her relentlessly, thrusting in deep waves, licking at her lips and the inside of her cheeks. It felt as if Miranda was making love to her mouth, and as the slick muscle slipped in an out, the sudden thought of that tongue plunging into similar areas caused Andy to moan loudly.

The sound must have ignited an inferno in Miranda, because suddenly her hands were on Andy's butt, kneading the supple skin through the lace panties. Dazed, Andy mirrored the action, palms sliding low to slip under the hem of Miranda's camisole, pushing up the silk until she found the soft buttocks and cupped them greedily.

"Hmmm," Miranda moaned into her mouth, her fingers digging into Andy's flesh, pulling their groins together, causing their hip bones to collide sharply.

They both gasped at the brief pain, but then Andy giggled; breathless and overwhelmed by the intensity of their chemistry. Miranda's hands slipped down between them, thumbs seeking out Andy's hips and she sweetly caressed the sore spots.

"Sorry," she whispered against Andy's lips. "I just..." she trailed off, the pads of her thumbs sliding under the hem of Andy's tank top. "To finally feel you like this... is just..."

When Miranda's fingers gently caressed her belly, Andy sighed. The tension of the past weeks slowly ebbed away, tenderly coaxed from her body with each light stroke of nails and fingertips across her skin. Her own hands pushed at Miranda's camisole, slipping beneath the silk and gliding up Miranda's smooth lower back.

She was so hot against her palms, and as Andy stroked up and down her spine, Miranda released a purr that tingled through Andy's body and settled low, all the way between her thighs, causing her to seek out Miranda's mouth in another kiss. The need to be so much closer to the wonderful creature in her arms had her tug impatiently at the silk camisole, and her tongue drove harshly between Miranda's moist lips in frustration when the garment wouldn't really budge.

Their positioning - lying on their sides, facing each other- didn't allow them much room for maneuvering, and as if she had been reading Andy's mind, Miranda abruptly pulled away and sat up. Nothing could have prepared Andy for the erotic image of a flustered Miranda reaching down and pulling her nightgown over her head in one swift motion, leaving her hair flying and exposing the most beautiful pair of breasts Andy had ever seen.

Miranda looked down at Andy through lowered lashes, her forelock sexily falling over her eye, her nipples pert and perfect, and driven by a sudden, feral need, even the last self-conscious thoughts banned from her mind, Andy dug her palms into the mattress and rose.

They knelt on the bed, the covers pooling around their middles, and Andy almost died when Miranda reached out and slowly pulled her tank top up and over her head. Her cheeks burned at the intense scrutiny that followed, but the way Miranda's eyes became glassy, and her jaw went slack, assured Andy that the older woman liked what she saw.

"So perfect," Miranda whispered distractedly, and when she looked back up Andy nodded to the question that burned in her eyes.

The moment shaky, but warm hands connected with her breasts, Andy was blazing with desire. Miranda's breath hitched as she followed the rounded swells and slowly cupped the mounds, taking some of the weight into her palms, and Andy whimpered when her thumbs glided up and over her nipples, instantly hardening them.

"Oh god... "

For weeks she had fantasised about Miranda's touch, about being in her arms, inhaling her scent and holding her close. This was so much further than she had ever allowed herself to dream, and the reality of her boss tenderly rolling her nipples between her fingers absolutely blew Andy's mind. Her body grew weak from the touch, rendering her helpless, turning her to butter, and the way Miranda gazed at her, first with wonder, then with a grin that gradually turned predatory, caused her to grow increasingly wet between her legs.

She needed to level the playing field; regain some kind of balance. So she raised her fingers and carefully drew her nails along the underside of Miranda's right breast, an action that was instantly rewarded by a hiss, and then Miranda closed her eyes and arched her back, pushing out her chest, inviting Andy to further touch.

"Yes..."

The weight in her palms was delicious and so warm when Andy cupped Miranda with both hands. She began a gentle massage, rubbing over the rock hard nipples in slow circles, thumbs caressing the smooth sides, and Miranda threw back her head in a deep-throated moan. The elegant lines of her collarbones and the soft curves of her creamy shoulders pulled at Andy, and without a moment's hesitation, she crawled the last few inches forward and connected their bodies.

Their intimate embrace was beyond anything Andy could have ever imagined. First their breasts pushed together like the softest pillows, and then Andy felt Miranda's nipples against her skin, their groins sliding together and warm hands clawing at her back, pulling her forward.

With a bounce they landed back on the mattress; or rather, Miranda landed on her back with Andy on top of her, and Andy laughed, feeling lightheaded and giddy when the arms around her loosened and those tender fingers began another round of sweet caresses up and down her spine. She kissed Miranda again on those lips, which were usually so prone to verbally injure at the slightest displeasure, but now moved against her sensually, urging her to kiss deeper.

Tongues met anew, and Miranda's palms slipped over Andy's butt, briefly grabbing the flesh, before sliding lower, rounding under the soft swells and then carefully sliding down between Andy's thighs. The close proximity of her lover's touch to her centre threatened to drive her crazy, and when Miranda tugged at her legs, urging them apart, Andy readily complied and straddled Miranda's hips.

Miranda's palms returned to her butt, where they tugged firmly, causing Andy to buck her hips and grind down.

"Hmmm..." she moaned while Miranda ravished her mouth, timing the strokes of her tongue with the flexing of her fingers against her backside, and all Andy could do was to curl her hands under Miranda's shoulders and hang on.

The deep, mental connection that had built between them over the past months was finally allowed to assume its true, physical form, and Miranda slipped her hands under the waist band of Andy's panties, sliding over the bare skin of her ass, back and forth, pulling gently, before letting go and resuming her circular motions.

It was almost ironic, that the woman who, a year ago, had called her 'fat' was now practically worshipping her butt. Although, it was the sweetest kind of irony, one for which Andy would readily endure a million hurtful remarks any day.

She couldn't help the automatic roll of her hips against Miranda, the pressure against her soaked centre simply not enough, despite the delicious way Miranda pulled at her backside. She needed Miranda's direct touch, ached for her fingers to slide between her folds and caress her in the most intimate of ways.

"Andrea," Miranda breathed against her lips. "I'm not sure that I can wait." Her voice was shaky, raspy with want, and Andy felt a heaviness clutch at her chest that made her want to laugh and cry, and bury her face against the satin skin of Miranda's neck.

"Don't be ridiculous, Miranda," she used one of the editor's trademark phrases against her as she sweetly brushed their noses together. "Why would we want to wait?"

And suddenly she was pushed over with unexpected force, and Miranda rolled on top of her, pinning her into the mattress and kissing her relentlessly while she tangled their limps together, a thigh slipping between Andy's legs and greedy hands digging into her shoulders.

With all rational thoughts having fled the building, Andy's hands easily slipped over her back and into Miranda's panties, where she palmed the smooth cheeks and pulled Miranda more firmly against herself.

They groaned together when hot, wet centres ground into upper thighs, and Miranda broke the kiss and buried her face in the crook of Andy's neck.

"Andrea... I'm going to take off your panties now," she whispered heavily, hot breath condensing against Andy's throat.

A whimper was all that Andy managed, and she readily lifted her hips and the lace was pulled away from her and tugged down her legs. When Miranda settled back against her, she realised that they were both fully naked now, and the sudden wetness against her leg made her cry out.

"M-Miranda!"

The crooks of her elbows locked around Miranda's neck, pulling her down, and she sought out her swollen mouth and kissed her almost desperately when they fully rubbed against each other for the first time.

Miranda felt so rich, so hot and wet, and Andy's mind went numb at the thought that she was the very cause of that. She was the one who had gotten Miranda into this state; sweaty, needy, frantic, and so very slick. The way Miranda's skin burned against her own felt heavenly and Andy knew she would never ever want to be anywhere else but naked and open underneath her Miranda.

Her growing feelings had been building for this very moment. She had longed to be so much closer to Miranda, to share everything with her, and now, as they writhed together, beginning a slow rhythm against each other, she understood how deeply she had fallen.

She loved Miranda with every inch of her being.

Her heart ached at the realisation, but it was a pleasant burn that slowly spread through her body and fully prepared her for when Miranda raised her head to gaze down at her. Eyes the greenest blue Andy had ever seen, cheeks flushed and a fine sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead, Miranda was absolutely magnificent. Her lips were parted, allowing short, shallow breaths to ghost down over Andy, and that soft silver forelock Andy had so often wished to brush away from Miranda's face, now hung low and tickled the tip of Andy's nose.

Time slowed when from the corner of her eye, Andy watched how one of Miranda's hands moved lower, and she felt a clammy palm brush against her belly and stroke over her thigh. Instantly Andy moved her free leg, pulling up her heel and bringing her knee to the side, spreading herself open; ready for Miranda.

And then fingers were upon her, fluttering against her obscenely wet folds, first, like soft raindrops of the lightest summer rain, before the caresses slowly firmed. Andy saw such an abundance of emotion in Miranda's eyes when she tenderly stroked one finger through her slit, then another, before dragging both back up and pressing carefully against her clit.

The combination of the incredible sweetness of Miranda's movements, and the perfect pressure against her bundle of nerves had Andy cry out, and she rolled her hips against those fingers, bucking up against her lover. Miranda angled her face and began to gently lick and suck on Andy's throat as she continued to stroke through Andy's wetness.

The thigh Miranda was straddling became increasingly slippery as well, and in a blissful haze Andy's hand found the soft hairs between Miranda's thighs and greedily slipped lower. Miranda reacted immediately, rolling forward to welcome Andy's fingertips and moaning against her neck when they melted together.

"Oh god, Andrea!"

Feeling Miranda react to her, the smallest tremors rushing over her skin each time Andy stroked the little nub, was even more overwhelming than being touched herself, and Andy welcomed Miranda's face back against her neck, cradling the silken head with her other arm. They mirrored their movements, fingertips slipping through their heat, hips rolling together, chests heaving in unison, until Miranda placed the most tender kiss at the base of Andy's throat and pushed one finger inside.

"Ah..."

Andy moaned loudly, her nails digging sharply into the back of Miranda's neck, clinging to her; her groin moving toward the intrusion to welcome the gentle penetration and urge Miranda deeper. When the finger withdrew slightly Andy wasted no time and sought out her lover's own entrance. As soon as Miranda pushed into her again, so did Andy, and the tandem sensation of filling, and being filled, caused both to groan, deep and low, their groins gliding together, adding pressure.

"Darling..." Miranda hissed, her thighs opening wider, granting more access. "Use another finger."

"You... as well," Andy panted and prepared her hand as she gently withdrew. They pushed inside again, two digits each, and the way they fused together so completely was an absolute marvel, overworldly and so beautiful, that Andy felt her eyes grow moist. Gently, and in perfect sync, they slowly thrust into each other, the sloppy sounds mingling with their sighs and moans, and Andy felt herself on the verge of drowning.

Miranda caressed every inch of her, fingers flexing against her inner walls, carefully stretching the opening anew with each push, and once inside drawing a firm stroke against that one spot just below her belly button. Almost delirious, Andy had her head thrown back, her lips were parted and she tried to concentrate on what her own hand was doing inside Miranda.

Somehow a third finger had slipped into her lover, whose hips ground down hard. Andy could feel her stretch with each movement and she angled her wrist to be able to go deeper.

"Oh... Andrea... _yessss_," Miranda hissed against her and her movement picked up speed as she impaled herself again and again, each roll of her hips pressing her thigh against her hand, effectively driving it harder into Andy.

"Miranda... ah!" Andy could only pant, her chest started to burn from a lack of air, and she clung to Miranda as well as she could, given how slick and sweaty their bodies were by now, sliding over one another with unbelievable ease.

Andy pressed her legs back together, trapping Miranda's thigh in between and creating a wonderful friction that gave her more leverage to press the heel of her palm into Miranda's hard, little pearl.

"Oh god..." Miranda's legs tensed in reaction and she curled her fingers inside Andy, stroking the slightly rough patch over and over, which caused a violent shudder to course through Andy. She was so very close, floating just above the edge, inching higher and higher, and the way Miranda's core gripped at her, sodden labia brushing over her knuckles, and the soft mouth against her throat kissed and suckled distractedly at her skin, made their coupling so incredibly real to Andy, that when Miranda suddenly clamped around her, muscles going rigid, her fingertips harshly jabbing against Andy's pulse right at her very centre, the world around them disappeared in the brightest of flashes, and holding tightly onto Miranda, Andy felt herself fall.

Somewhere, faintly, she heard her name being chanted repeatedly, but her mind was completely blank and nothing mattered but the intense sensation flooding her body. Her hips raced back and forth as she rode through their combined pleasure, delicious shivers moving from her lover over to herself through where they so intimately connected.

"Andrea... Andrea... Andrea," Miranda whimpered against her, and as she slowly regained some of her conscious thought, Andy gentled her touch, coaxing Miranda through the orgasm as her lover's fingers did with her in return. When the sharpness of their release started to ebb away, their thrusts became caresses; hips rolling languidly, chasing the last few tremors.

"Hmmmmmmmmmm," Miranda purred before she finally stilled. Her heart thumped violently against her ribs, the beat like a bass drum, echoing low in Andy's chest.

Andy carefully unclasped her legs from their stony grip around Miranda's thigh, and the sudden access of air against their centres had them both gasp at the obscene amount of bodily fluids between them.

"Oh my god," Miranda groaned hoarsely, slightly shifting.

The giggle that bubbled up in Andy's chest burst forth so suddenly that it took them both by surprise, but Miranda quickly joined in and hid her face in Andy's neck as they lay together, laughing heartily as the tsunami of endorphins gradually receded.

Carefully, Miranda lifted her hips and allowed Andy to slip her hand free. A flood of moisture dripped down onto Andy's thigh and Miranda mumbled a few more embarrassed 'oh god's into her neck, before gently withdrawing her own hand from Andy's equally wet core.

They embraced, not caring that they effectively spread their essences all over their backs, their arms and into their hair, and they remained slung together for a while until their breathing significantly calmed.

In the few minutes of silence that followed, Andy tried to think of something to say, but words failed at trying to express exactly how she felt. She worried that she would cheapen the moment by speaking, and even the one thing she truly wanted to say, from the very bottom of her heart, suddenly felt utterly inadequate.

To her relief, it was Miranda who after a while lifted her head and gazed down with such an intensity that Andy knew that what they had just shared was completely and utterly mutual, and beyond comparison to what either of them had ever experienced.

"I love you so much," came the whisper from Miranda's lips, and Andy knew that her lover felt the same inadequacy of the phrase, no matter how beautiful it sounded and how much it truly meant.

"You're everything to me," Andy whispered in return, her fingers stroking tenderly along Miranda's spine.

The kiss that followed was sweet, and they took their time, drawing it out until they eventually released each other's lips and Miranda smiled down with a look full of affection, that caused Andy to hug her tightly and sigh from happiness.

Miranda shifted her weight onto the mattress, but left her leg draped across Andy's thighs. She reached for the covers and pulled the sheets up and around them, before sweetly kissing Andy's shoulder and snuggling close, her arm firmly holding Andy around the middle.

"I'm so glad I still retained some of my old pre-Runway habits and went for a midnight snack," Andy said with a soft giggle while playing with a few of Miranda's damp silver strands.

"Me too," Miranda whispered, and poked a gentle finger into Andy's belly, before she reached behind her to switch off the light.

Once they had settled into the darkness, and the wonderful afterglow finally allowed fatigue and slumber to crawl up on Andy, Miranda gently grasped her hip.

"Andrea?" She whispered.

"Uh-huh?"

"I hope you understand that I will never be able let you go..."

There was a slight uncertainty lacing her voice, and Andy's lips quickly found the tip of her nose in a sweet, reassuring kiss.

"I do, my Love. And I wouldn't want to be anywhere else but by your side."

"Good," came Miranda's court reply, and she snuggled closer, hugging Andy tightly and stroking tenderly over her hips until, finally, a restful sleep claimed them both.

_The End._


End file.
